Page 8 of Keeping Caroline

“Houdini.” I smiled as my cat sauntered over, his tail high as he swirled around my legs, purring in welcome. Closing the door behind me, I dropped my bags to the ground and stooped over to scratch behind his ears. “I missed you too, buddy.”

"Come on," I murmured, watching the loading bar inch across the screen of my center monitor. After my long drive back to Atlanta, I'd fallen asleep on the couch with Houdini curled up on my lap, but with the sky outside now dark, I was anxious to give Ethan some sort of update.

First checking the tracking on the shipment of security hardware Ethan and I had ordered from his safe room, I was at least relieved most of it was enroute to his property. A fortress was only as strong as its weakest point, and I refused to let their defenses falter on my watch. I wasn't yet sure what dark tide was rising around them, but I needed them to be prepared to defend against it.

Perched beside me on the desk, Houdini's tail twitched as though he was just as impatient with me as I was. I reached across the desk, scratching behind his ear. "Alright, buddy. It's time to find some answers." Even with the gravity of the situation, I couldn't help but smile as he leaned into my touch.

The hum of the cooling fan blended with the distant sound of traffic outside my window as my fingers moved across the keyboard, Houdini settling in beside me. He was already snoring by the time I accessed the hidden forum known as “The Underbelly." It was a digital cesspool where criminals of all sorts gathered to exchange information, sell contraband, and plan things that would give most warm-blooded creatures nightmares. I'd stumbled into the forum purely by accident two years earlier when trying to keep a well-known state politician out of hot water for tax fraud and had been finding lots of useful information in there ever since.

Like a ghost, I passed right through layers of encryption, each one more complex than the last, hoping to find my way into the places where Victor Delacroix's remaining gang members lingered. With their leader dead and gone, however, there was a real chance they'd gone so far underground that I would not even be able to find them, but I wasn't ready to give up on myself just yet.

With my focus homed in on the task at hand, I sifted through the idle chatter and endless plotting for the rare kernels of truth to be found in such a place. Even after death, Victor Delacroix's name was a specter that loomed large in such circles—his gang’s tendrils entwined deep within the city's foundation for decades, and with his gang conducting illegal trading with entities both at home and abroad, it was not unheard of to find his name in channels from outside of New Orleans as well.

Prowling through posts and back channels, I hunted for anything that might shed light on the FBI's case against Victor’s gang, but it was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

And then there it was, stark against the dark background—a post from someone called ShadowRunner.

"Insider info on FBI's Delacroix case," read the title, and my pulse quickened. It wasn't just another breadcrumb. This promised to be the loaf. I’d already spent time going through the thumb drive Ethan had given to me, but I hadn’t found anything on there that would be of use just yet. I intended to dig further, but this was a real lead, or a very convenient ploy. It was clear ShadowRunner was speaking with the confidence of the truly knowledgeable, or the foolishly bold. Although the communication wasn't meant for me, but possibly for members of Delacroix's gang who were undoubtedly willing to pay for the information, I hijacked the communication under an alternate alias of Sentinel. My moniker of Phantom was me at my core—able to slip through the net of cyberspace unnoticed, untraceable—but even shadows feared exposure when they encountered something darker. I realized this ShadowRunner could be a beacon or a trap, but they were the only lead I had at the moment. Not knowing ShaddowRunner’s intentions, however, I didn’t want them to know my main alias.

"Need details on Etienne's part," I typed, my fingers almost betraying the urgency that clawed at my insides. "Time sensitive."

With a click, the message disappeared into the ether, and I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. I was already getting tired again. The cursor blinked on the screen, silently taunting me.

Refusing to let it win, I opened another tab. I'd gone through all the relevant news articles before, but just in case I’d missed something. I knew I was just distracting myself. Either way, I felt the need to read through them again.

Surprisingly, even looking a second and third time, I saw Scarlett’s father’s name in none of the articles about what happened in the distillery. If the feds knew about his involvement, they were keeping it close to the vest. The good thing was that, with Scarlett's father's name not being in the news in relation to Delacroix's death, neither was hers.

As I scrolled through the endless mentions of Victor Delacroix's death by every news channel south of the Mason-Dixon Line, a notification chimed from the other window I had left open in my browser—the chime cutting through the silence and causing Houdini to roll over from where he lounged across my desk.

Blowing out a breath, I flipped back to the other tab to see a message from ShadowRunner. A rush of adrenaline surged through me as I leaned forward in my chair, opening the correspondence. “Information comes at a price, Sentinel, but I trust you understand the stakes.”

I went quiet for a moment, understanding more about the stakes than even ShadowRunner did. What I didn't know was what he would want in exchange for the information—whether he was offering it up because he wanted to see the mobsters behind bars, or whether he wanted to see Scarlett’s father dead. At the end of the day, however, I wouldn’t know unless I bit.

"Speak," I typed back, the word concise and commanding even though my pulse hammered a frantic rhythm at my temples.

For several moments, I watched the flickering screen, hoping whatever he sent back was worth something.

Finally, after I thought he may have disappeared altogether, the message unfurled across the screen. "Ivy Etienne is under the watchful eye of the feds, and Delacroix's boys are more than aware. They're looking for him, but he's safe. For now. Witness protection until the trial sings its verdict—unless his enemies find him first.”

Chapter 6

The Phoenix

Tristan’s absence was not missed by my very perceptive daughter when I picked her up from school the day he left, but, just like any other seven-year-old, her attention quickly shifted as she poured the contents of her backpack out in the backseat of the car to tell me all about her science project. It was her first time going to a real school in a long time, and she was loving it. The opportunity to use a thousand craft supplies was like Christmas morning, so it was all she talked about the entire way home—Tristan temporarily forgotten.

Once we got home, Evie immediately spread her supplies out on the kitchen table, foam balls rolling onto the floor. I scooped them up before making her a snack of sliced strawberries. She climbed into the chair, her small, delicate fingers wrapped around the glue stick. Her other hand lifted a strawberry to her mouth, her eyes wide with excitement. “Mommy, do you think we should use glitter on Earth, so it’s super special?”

Sliding the glitter across the table, I nodded.“ I think that’s a great idea, nugget… lots of glitter.”

Eve giggled, her laughter like music to my ears. It was hard to believe that less than a year ago, she had been so sick, fighting for her life. Now, here she was, full of energy and joy, lighting up the room with her presence.

Her tongue peeked out the corner of her mouth as she coated the blue planet in glue and then dipped it in colorful glitter. In that moment, as I ruffled the soft fuzz on her scalp and the golden rays of the sunset reflected in her eyes, I let myself believe in the normalcy we were painstakingly creating. It was almost too perfect, and I was afraid to blink and have it all fall away. As I watched her work, the doorbell chimed, disrupting my thoughts.

Leaving Evie at the table, I walked to the front door, expecting to see Ethan and Scarlett standing on my front porch since they were coming over for dinner. Instead, my eyes landed on the face of a delivery man holding a package.

“Oh, hey,” I said, taking the stylus from him to sign on the pad.

He smiled, holding the box out for me to take it, but my attention was drawn over his shoulder. A few houses down, and on the opposite side of the street, a black SUV sat parked on its shoulder. It was clear there was someone inside, but I couldn’t see their features from where I was standing. Something about the vehicle’s presence sent a shiver of unease down my spine, but when I turned my attention back to the delivery man, the mysterious vehicle drove away, the tinted windows too dark for me to see inside as they passed by.

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